


Sunny evening

by savaged



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Borussia Dortmund, FC Bayern München, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5529920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savaged/pseuds/savaged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Marco invites Mario over to his hotel room, things don't go the way he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunny evening

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a Secret Santa gift for [marioslugbrows](http://www.marioslugbrows.tumblr.com)! Hope you had a rad Christmas! xox

Why did he invite him in the first place? Seeing the face he used to be enamored with is not healthy -even his nutritionist would agree, measuring the way his stomach clenches and unclenches as the hour approaches. He easily confuses whatever it is with butterflies, because, why not. He still is attracted to the guy, there's such a long history around their relationship as teammates, then friends, then platonic friends, then so much more. And then breaking up, but that's not important right now.

He gives in. Be it the obnoxious way society romanticizes everything, be it winter and its ways to push people together to give each other warmth and comfort, be it the nostalgia of feeling Mario's sweaty hair under his fingertips after a match. He can't help but give in. Besides, his gut tells him this is going to be a good night -not that Mario accepting to come wasn't an excellent signal already.

So yes, that's why he invited him. The infinitesimal chance of sparking up an old fire between them, perhaps. The coincidence of being in the same city at the same time, taking a break from practice. The universe gathered all these small things together to give them a chance, and Marco gave in. He smiles to himself as he looks at his phone screen, face lit in the dim lights of his hotel room.

There's a towel around his hips. It's the only thing covering his lower body, because the upper half is dressed in a rather violent blush. He calms himself down, stirs the bath salts -specifically Jacuzzi salts,- watching the colors mix in his hand. They're pink and yellow and tickle his fingers, leaving them rose scented and soft.

The steam of the warm water fogs up the panoramic windows, leading to the beautiful blurry view of the city at dusk. A curtain of shimmering spots like a rain of sparkles paint the darkness, resting upon silent buildings and busy highways, set in between mountains. The moon, immaculate and not so hasty as to move through, looks half full. Marco's eyes wander. Somewhere, Mario's coming to his hotel room.

-

It's been past an hour since he should have arrived.

Marco's looking at his phone screen for the fifth time the same minute, gnawing on the inside of his cheeks. When he hears the first knock on the door, he springs off the bed dropping his cellphone and stepping with the foot that's been asleep all this time. He bends his ankle and still manages to reach the door before the third knock, showing a radiant smile.

"Dude, are you really naked under that towel?" Mario lets out a childish chuckle and throws a bag of food supplies at him, "let me take a shower first. I've been in the gym until now, see..."

"Ah, that's- That's not really necessary," Marco takes a hand to his nape, clearing the way for Mario to get in and lay down on the bed. He's wearing a _lot_  of clothes, carrying a _lot_  of stuff.

"I've got shampoo from the hotel. You can use the Jacuzzi. There's not much time left, anyway, and... You look tired."

"Yeah, it's late, ain't it?"

Marco looks away, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. "Well, you can just take a shower and head to your hotel."

"For real, dude? You aren't gonna let me stay?" Mario raises one eyebrow at him, "wait, I thought I could stay the night here. I meant, when you told me to come I-"

"There's only one bed."

"It's not like we haven't slept in the same bed before..."

Marco scoffs. "Whatever you want." His blush is back, and it's gonna get him _good_ this time, when Mario sits up and puts an arm around his shoulders.

"I promise I won't try anything weird, okay. I'm way over it."

"Whatever you want."

-

Seeing Mario's body's still the same. He hasn't changed a lot, maybe there's more muscle here and there but- It holds the same essence, and it's more calming than seeing his face because Marco hasn't really gotten over it at all. He isn't way over it, he's as deep as the ocean for it. _Marianas trench_ deep.

His face's round and electric when he smiles, a contagious thing. He's smiling right now, watching the colors of the Jacuzzi's water mix around and make bubbles on top, raising steam and inviting them in.

He didn't find the need to wear a towel around Marco. He slides into the tub with total clumsiness and exhaust, melting like a slug. Marco smirks, taking his time to strip himself and descend with mad elegance into the spot across Mario, showing off new bruises and muscles, relaxing in the water womb. The smell and comfort of it lull him immediately, and as quickly, he's snapped out of it by Mario's voice. "I got shampoo in my eyes, dude. I can't wash them with salty water, I-"

Marco sighs. "Come here, close your eyes."

"But I can't see!"

"Just come, you dumbass."

Marco cups his face once he arrives, and rubs his eyelids with his thumbs, sweeping off foam off his cheeks. Mario looks at him from under damp lashes, a small smile painted on his lips.

"My savior."

"Shut up."

"Here," the guy hands him a shampoo tube with the hotel logo printed on it. "Wash my hair while I do the rest. Try not to get it in my eyes."

It makes a knot start to grow in his throat, the way his fingers go around Mario's scalp, because he was so used to this. Because he was so used to like this. The way Mario's shoulders would roll in delight, the things he would say about his hands, the shape of his back pressed against his front and lap... Just the texture of his hair, the heat of his earlobes, the smell of his shampoo. Marco stops and pushes him slightly away from himself.

"I'm not gonna clean you all night."

"Geez, don't be rude." Mario furrows his brow and goes underwater for some seconds. When he reappears, he's wearing a neutral expression. "I brought food. In case all those difficult cleaning tasks got you hungry."

Marco rolls his eyes blankly and leans back on the border of the tub, spreading his arms. He feels his lower body float, his legs brushing Mario's. The boy across stares back at him. The gaze his held for so many seconds, Marco loses count. Then, the Bayern's midfielder's mouth opens.

"Thanks. I mean it."

"For the bath?"

"For inviting me."

-

There's white wine and fruit salad on the table set in front of the balcony, and Mario, chewing silently and gazing at the landscape. He doesn't look thoughtful, or weary, or blue. He carries something else in him to use against the winter; always has. _Sunny_. It's always beens sunny while he's been with him, or at least that's the way he's made him feel. His eyes are cheered up, calmed down.

"Quiet a sight." Marco agrees, but then again he isn't staring at the window. "I think I'm in love- If you saw my hotel room in contrast with yours you'd probably cringe."

"Is it that bad?"

"Meh." Mario takes another bite of strawberries, "it's normal I guess. It's the room that I deserve, but not the one that I need." Mario frowns, spitting seeds. His collarbones rise and drop as he sighs and his front teeth gap show, biting at his lower lip. "'ve noticed you like Batman."

"So you need my room."

"I need _this_  room. Different things." Mario keeps chewing. "You in it has nothing to do with it."

"How nice."

"I've already told you, I'm way over us."

Marco pushes his plate of fruit away and stands up. "You can wear my pajamas once you're dry, I've got an extra pair in the bag next to the bathroom's door. I'm heading to bed."

"Okay, see you there."

"I'll be sleeping."

 

"You've never been a heavy sleeper."

When Mario slides in, Marco has to hold his breath. The guy's wearing only his briefs. Despite being covered by the blankets and clothes he shivers, his body growing as stiff as a rock to Mario's side, whining a faint "Sunny," as a complaint for his lack of clothes.

He says nothing, continues to settle in stealing some place for his head upon Marco's pillow, grinning like an idiot thinking Marco can't see him do it like he can't see Marco; his eyes aren't used to the dark yet.

"Sorry to wake you up."

"Really, I've never been a heavy sleeper."

Mario frowns and approaches him. It violates any kind of personal space they had left, sharing the same pillow, and Marco can feel his breathing fasten and his cheeks grow hot. He feels like a school boy seeing his crush all over again -he feels young, that's what Mario's capable of. The younger guy says "hey," whispering, holding a smirk. "Come here."

"That's not a good idea-"

"Well, none of this was a good idea, was it." Marco opens his lips slightly, unfocused by Mario's mouth. "But we still are friends, right? We share beds with the guys all the time. Even with your club."

Marco has to agree on that, although he hates the idea of Mario sharing his limp body with anyone else. He knows how he likes to cuddle, how he steals the blankets all for himself, how he moves around the bed. He knows what he dreams about, the shape of his hands pushing his chest to wake him up, the sound of his sleepy voice, the stupid haze of fatigue his face displays at morning. This _was_ , indeed, a bad idea. A disaster.

Just as he thinks of sleeping on the floor, Mario wraps his arms around his waist under the duvet and puts his own head under Marco's chin, a bold move that brings Marco's heart to a halt. He senses Mario's beating chest against his.

"None of them lie about being way over you, either, but that's alright. They've never been as lucky as me to have you."

"I..." Marco doesn't even try. He holds him back, arms around his shoulders, soft sleepy huffs reaching his neck. They tickle. Everything in his body tickles. Perhaps that's the main reason he won't sleep the following hours left of night. Perhaps it's Mario pretending to be asleep and kissing the corner of his mouth thinking  _he_ is. 

Perhaps he doesn't need to sleep when he's reliving one of his favorite dreams.

 


End file.
